


details, details

by rosebud_writer



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I do what I want, Kisses, M/M, Now! with actual writing, POV Richard Papen, Post-Canon, authors thoughts, details, disaster bi Richard Papen, just little things, they're all baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosebud_writer/pseuds/rosebud_writer
Summary: An ongoing collection of small headcanons and one-shots detailing a domestic AU where Francis, Camilla, and Richard live together.
Relationships: Camilla Macaulay/Richard Papen, Francis Abernathy & Camilla Macaulay, Francis Abernathy/Richard Papen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. little things

Bedrooms:  
-Francis: neat piles of book stacks, organized desk, bursting full open closet, always made bed, shoes lined against the wall, orderly but still inviting  
-Richard: photos and notes and poems taped by bedside, clothes piled on chairs, too many books to keep track of, overdue library books stuffed in odd corners, change in a spare teacup  
-Camilla: long dead and dying flowers, open books, pictures and scribbles pinned on walls, too many pillows, stacks of blankets, chaos only she understands

Romantic gestures:  
-Richard: small thoughtful things, makes coffee on early mornings, irons their clothes, wildflowers placed on pillows, leaving love notes in coat pockets, kisses on noses, foreheads, and temples,  
-Camilla: wonderful at casual intimacy, making favorite meals, best at listening, remembers the smallest details,  
-Francis: physical intimacy, kisses on cheeks, knuckles, noses, always holding hands, flitting hands fixing outfits or hair, lots of “dears” “darlings” “sweetheart” 

Kissing  
-Kissing Francis would taste like cigarettes and chocolate. Desperate, needy, hands wandering from neck to hair to waist. He kisses like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to see you.  
-Kissing Richard would taste like brandy and apples. Lips worshipping every whisper of skin, gentle, tender. He kisses you like you’re the only one in the world.  
-Kissing Camilla would taste like earl grey tea and rose. Passionate, pulling at hair, unbuttoning shirts. She kisses you like she’s always wanted you. 

Rainy night  
-On a rainy night Camilla throws open her window, and plays a classical record much too loud, she dances around her room as she works. The rain feels refreshing to her, she relishes it. Sometimes Richard will sit in her room, glancing up from his book to see as she flits here and there.  
-On a rainy night Francis sits near the window, wrapped in the warmest blanket. He sips tea and smokes a cigarette. The rain feels like an old friend to Francis, a comforting presence. Sometimes Richard will join him on the couch and they sit in a pleasant silence, content in one another’s proximity and the background sound of the rain.  
-On a rainy night Richard sits on the porch. It never really rained like this in California, and he never could get sick of the sound. The rain feels fresh to Richard, a sign of new life. Sometimes Camilla will drag him outside for a rainy walk. They don’t get far, but they are soaked by the time they get back, happier than ever. Francis will sigh, and share his tea with them after they’ve changed.

Insecurities and Comfort  
-Francis worries. He worries a lot. Especially about not being enough, not fulfilling enough for Richarrd, not good enough for Camilla, not enough for school. In the late of the night, when his worries voices get too loud, he stumbles into either of their rooms. He hates himself for it, but a little less so when their arms are around him. Camilla brushes his hair softly, Richard gives him small, sleepy kisses. He’s certainly not fixed, but it’s easier to feel okay with them.  
-Camilla worries that she fades to the background. Spending so much of her life as a piece of a perfect set, she doesn’t always know what to do on her own. She hates to be compared, to fall in the shadow of others. Camilla writes and reads herself into a frenzy, when particularly insecure- a whirlwind of self hatred and an unquenchable need to do something, anything. It takes the boys a long time to coax her out of this madness, but slowly, when they take the time to point out moments that are so unmistakably Camilla, complementing her mind, her genius, she remembers who she is. Richard reminds her that she is the one he loves, not her family. Francis reminds her that they chose each other, not out of convenience, but because they are so complimentary. She cries in their arms each time, in the early hours of the morning, covered in ink.  
-Richard worries about being a fake. That he’s tricked them, when in reality he's not as good as he says. Not deserving of Camilla or Francis, not deserving of their love, not smart enough for Julian’s class. When Richard worries, he pushes himself away, focusing on work and study. He stops caring, only eating and sleeping when Camilla and Francis push him to, because he has to make up for it, to close that gap. The one that looks so large to him, but is nonexistent to the others. They don’t care, they love him. They comfort him through touch, holding him, softly reassuring him that he only need to step forward to cross the gap.They force him to remember what life is about, love, they take him to the country house. Camilla asks him for help, accompanies him on late night library runs. Francis makes him laugh. Camilla makes him smile. Francis holds Richard’s hand, squeezing it when Richard’s eyes get far away.

Random:  
-One morning, while styling Camilla’s hair, Francis notices how long it’s gotten, “My, my, Camilla! Your hair has grown quite a bit since April!” The transition from short hair to long hair is quite symbolic for her, even if the boys don’t know it. Camilla loved her long hair, but she cut it short when Charles started abusing her. Short hair isn’t pulled or grabbed as easily, the missing parts are much less noticeable. Growing out her hair is Camilla reclaiming herself, now without Charles, and even if they don’t know it, a way of her showing the boys she trusts them. 

Hands  
-Francis’ hands are capable. Willing to catch anything you need. They’re soft, well manicured even, but still strong. His grip will hold you down, keep you grounded. They’re the perfect temperature. Long, slim fingers that are a little frigid. Often painted nails- black is his favorite.  
-Camilla’s hands are dainty, faelike. They will roam your whole body. Her grip reminds you that she is there, it’s not the strongest, but will take you by surprise when you don’t expect it. They’re beautiful, ice cold. long nail beds, small hands. Painted in nude colors, mostly so you can’t really tell if they’ve chipped or not.  
-Richard’s hands are sturdy. They will pull you along through everything, reassuring and warm. His grip is firm. His hands are always hot, a relief in the cold winter semester.


	2. just thoughts, that's all

Falling Asleep  
Camilla falls asleep slowly. It takes a long time for her to relax, after so many years of feeling unsafe in her own place. She does not sleep deeply, is probably the lightest sleeper out of them all. Sleeps curled on her side, in more of a nest of blankets than a bed.   
Francis falls asleep gradually, in small stages. He has a long routine, washing his face, shaving, bathing, having a cup of tea with Camilla. Each moment is like turning off a switch for him and he sleeps better when he is able to do so. Sleeps mainly on his stomach and arms under his pillow.   
Richard falls asleep quickly (when he doesn’t have a bout of insomnia, of course). He can be found asleep in funny places and positions, camilla or francis throwing blankets over him since he’s too big for either of them to carry. Sleeps mainly on his back, but isn’t particular about it, probably the heaviest sleeper out of them all. 

Simple and Nostalgic things they enjoy  
Francis: Old French songs, pretty bakeries, sitting in the window during winter or a rainstorm with a blanket, book and cup of tea, the smell of freshly laundered linens, sunshine in early mornings, picnics at the country house, fruit tarts or croissants in the mornings.  
Camilla: long carpeted staircases, pretty old rugs and warm grass under bare feet, strawberries and plums fresh off the trees, swinging clasped hands, soft blankets, handwritten letters that are old and creased and fragile, the way spring nights smell, sound of frogs croaking in the summer.   
Richard: early morning sunrises, how clear the night sky is in Hampden, the changing seasons, old songs that crackle on the record player, soft hands of lovers, voices quietly ringing in libraries, pages flipping and heels on tile, smoothness of ceramic or marble, the cartoon page in the newspaper

How They are Essential in the Household  
Francis: the caregiver- While they all care for each other, Francis is most attentive to his loves. Knowing their schedules, coaxing them to bed and to sleep, buying and making favorite foods so they’ll actually eat, fussing and worrying when they’re sick.  
Camilla: the decision maker- the balance between Richard’s hesitations and Francis’ insecurities, is truthful and quick witted, brings a cool head and intellect into high stress emotional situations. Though I’m sure she gets better at being “emotionally available,” she helps through logic and observation most of the time, decompressing situations with ease.   
Richard: the lover- (similar in theory to Francis BUT) brings the gentle romantic light to their household, He is the one to hold and comfort, whisper pretty soft nothings when the world is too loud. Genuine compliments and even more genuine kisses, they’re his everything and he wants them to know it. 

Non-Romantic things they do for one another:  
Richard: always offers to drive or carry their things around, will drop anything to help them out with the most trivial of things, keeps notes and things they give to him (meaningless notes and lists, clippings or things that remind him of them  
Francis: offers hand or back massages, fixes hair and buttons and outfits (“there you go now- right as rain!”), looks for them in crowds and is very conscious of where they are when they’re not together, buying them gifts when he’s out, always has to leave or enter the apartment with a kiss from his loves  
Camilla: being lovely and gently intimate with them, leaving magpie gifts on their pillows or desks or slightly incoherent notes, noticing fatigue and declaring someone needs a break + pulling them away from the stressor, lots of little kisses to cheeks and eyelids and noses

Favorite Classical Ballets:  
Francis: Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker   
Camilla: Swan Lake, Coppelia   
Richard: Giselle, A Midsummer Night’s Dream 

A Character Study: Camilla  
LISTEN UP BUTTERCUPS i love my girl she is not appreciated enough so here are some things about her:  
Has a habit of folding her hands under her chin and giving a sly glance and peerk of the lips when she’s amused but in a situation where she can’t say it  
Taps her fingers like she’s playing a piano piece when she’s thinking deeply, sometimes the boys will try and figure out what piece- it’s quite the competitive game between them  
Purses her lips together ever so slightly when she’s annoyed or unhappy (not knowing a translation or messing up a clause)  
Could talk for hours on end about poetry or literature (much like Henry used to) but was never really given the chance ( now, Richard is more than happy to listen to her )  
Has a pretty laugh, though it takes a while for Richard to figure out how to draw it out of her (a melodic laugh, a mix between low and hoarse but still lovely and feminine)  
Underlines in every book she reads, writes illegible and incoherent notes in the corners  
Talks to herself in little voices when she’s alone or falling asleep or focusing greatly, usually it’s just muttering and only little phrases actually make sense, but the boys find it endearing  
Has a wonderful singing voice, clear and low, her southern accent comes out just enough to make her voice warm and silky, but only sings if Francis is very sick or doing poorly, even then it’s something quiet and soft.   
Will look like she’s not paying attention or has a faraway look in her eyes, but in reality is picking up on everything (and sometimes more)  
Has the worst posture out of the three of them when at home, lounges always, curls up in odd positions and holds books at strange angles, claims it’s completely comfortable  
Loves blankets and quilts, likes to run her hands methodically over soft things when she’s stressed  
Has a very good and effective pouting face- puppy dog eyes and jutting her lip out just ever so slightly, looking up through her long eyelashes  
(Listen I have so many thoughts about our dear Milla, I just think Francis and Richard would really let her grow to be herself- not just the girl trying to make it in a boy’s club)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol my semester just started and I am dead but  
> here we are  
> like it or not ;)


	3. a snapshot of how we began this wonderful mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a question, a shared moment, some peace.
> 
> a beginning.

I don’t remember much from the early weeks I spent in the hospital the weeks after the… incident at the hotel. As I slowly got better and the well-meaning visitors trickled away, one stayed. 

He was an unexpected guest, and although I had been fond of him before, after spending so many hours with me, I found myself becoming even more reliant on Francis for comfort than I had expected. Sometimes we talked, though I was not all that good at talking because of the medication, mostly he just stayed with me. I may not have been in that hospital bed for long, but the days seemed to pass like years and Francis became the only bright spot. 

He sat up with me when I was hurting, he brought little trinkets to entertain me (though I had hardly the mind to use them), even the sour old nurses were charmed by him. 

When talk of discharging me came up, I was surprised to hear that somehow, he expected I would go to stay with him. I must have made a face because he laughed, a nervous, too short laugh into his cup of coffee.

“You’re sure, Francis?” I had asked, wanting to remind him that I could barely even sit without being in pain, wanting anything other than a burden to him. 

“Of course, I assumed you had nowhere else to go and Camilla is already staying with me. You’re welcome to decline if you wish to.”

I nodded my head, which felt like it was reeling, too shocked to say anything. Stay with Francis? It didn’t sound bad, it sounded quite nice, actually. I pushed aside the other worries I had (How would we get my things? Where would I sleep? Would Camilla want to see me?), focusing on the pleasant expression on his face at my answer. I liked seeing him smile like that. Time passed a little quicker after the decision was made. 

Soon enough, the day the hospital was to release me was fast approaching and I began to fear how our new arrangement was to actually work out. Francis, knowing me too well, must have detected my anxieties. 

“It will be alright,” he told me, a smooth hand resting on mine. And I believed him. 

Although most of his visits consisted of comfortable silence between the two of us, him reading and me drifting between states of consciousness, Francis sat close this evening. We talked for hours about everything- books, greek, traveling-and nothing- random questions, clothing, far off plans. I liked watching him laugh, we seemed to lean closer with every moment. Hands brushing every so often, my skin tingling with a sort of charged sense of longing. Maybe living with him would turn out even better than I had hoped it would. 

In a lull of our conversation, I heard Francis gasp. He was looking at his wristwatch, eyebrows raised just a bit. 

“What is it?” 

“I promised Camilla that I would join her for dinner today, I’m afraid I lost track of time.” 

I didn’t want him to go, dreaded being alone in the bright lights again. I mumbled a soft goodbye of sorts, how I wished I could leave with him. He looked at me for a moment, then to my surprise, leaned down to press a kiss to my lips. It was so unlike the first we shared. It was tender, filled with the emotions neither of us dared to speak of but were so painfully aware of. We must have only kissed for a moment, but his mouth was soft and oh God, I already needed him more than anything. 

His eyes seemed brighter when he pulled away, a smile- a real smile- adorned his face. I hadn’t seen it for so long. We stayed for a second, just looking at one another. Then, as if nothing had happened, Francis began to pull on his coat and scarf. 

“I’ll be back when I can, I promise. Why don’t you sleep while I’m gone?” he said, voice gentle but I could tell he was biting back excitement.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” I agreed, only then realizing how exhausted I was, though I felt more content than I had in a long while. My eyes shut on their own accord; my lips, my skin, still tingling with warmth from his embrace, the moment replaying behind my eyelids. 

The last thing I felt before drifting off was a light touch to my cheek from his fingertips. He must have whispered something, I didn’t catch it, I was sinking too far to sleep. But I like to think it was something sweet. It was then when I realized, even half drugged and stupidly in love, that we would figure things out somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im alive
> 
> still on the same BS, more to come


	4. golden evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an incredibly cliche but cute and short Camilla Richard piece to indulge myself

We were sitting in the living area, Camilla and I. It was a quiet evening, the late evening sunshine stirred itself lazily on the floor. I was reading Peril at End’s House, one of my old favorites (a bit cliche for me to like, I’ll admit, but I can’t deny the genius). Camilla was absorbed in the pages of her own book, a collection of poetry I didn’t recognize. She nearly curled into it, everything in her was so focused that she didn’t seem to notice the hair that was starting to fall into her face. 

She was beautiful. It was a thought I had often, but words often fail me when I think about love. In the sunlight, her hair glowed with a golden halo, she could have been an angel in those old chapel paintings. Radiant, terrifying, and perfect- I resisted the urge to laugh. Laugh at how lovely, how wonderful she was (how Camilla would hate me for saying such things, but they're true).

After a while of watching her devour the lines- eyes scraping every last bit of meaning, lips silently moving with the rhythm, fingers trailing the ink- she broke. Camilla stretched her arms, arching her back with cat-like grace. Though I tried to look away before she noticed, she caught me.

“What is it?” Her voice was scratchy from the hours of silence. I could hear the amusement in her tone, hoping desperately that I wasn't flushed.

“Nothing,” I said, reaching my hand to tuck the loose hair behind her ear. And it was nothing, just an image I wished to keep of my darling. My hand lingered for a moment and she leaned into my open palm.

Camellia’s face was inches from mine for a moment, grey eyes mischievous, and she kissed me. Good God, she kissed me hard and I knew I could go without sunlight or mystery novels but I couldn’t go on without her. She laughed a little when she pulled away. 

“Now it’s my turn to ask what it is,” My words were slow like honey and I barely had any breath left but I was willing to drown again. 

“What would you say,” she leaned in close again, the warmth of her lips ghosting mine (what a tease she is!), “if it was nothing?” 

It was my turn to lean in, to cut short the distance. I could feel her smile just a little when I kissed her. If I could give her the world, I would, but all I had was myself. And for that moment it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short i know but its past midnight 
> 
> I just like sappy stuff they deserve it and I don't know if I could add anything else so ?
> 
> let them be in love I say


End file.
